The Old Man on the Bench

I’ve been trolling them. It’s almost impossible to see it happen in real-time, but these blades of grass grow. Despite the hot sun, despite the cold winds, despite nobody noticing them. They do not fear that feet and machinery will trample upon them. They are constantly changing. It got me thinking, about change. Why do I find change so difficult? I’ll never know the absolute answer to that. Maybe there isn’t one. Anyway, one day as I was mulling over these thoughts during my daily walk, I came upon an old man. He was sitting under an acacia tree on a bench. There was nothing extraordinary about him or the moment, it was a visual I’ve seen many times. And yet there must have been because I turned around at least five times to look at him. Then I noticed it. His feet were bare and resting on the dewy grass. It was around eight degrees so my first thought was “What’s wrong with him?” The old man is going to catch a cold. I was instantly grateful to the universe that my feet were warm. I went home and got on with my day.

The next day I came upon the same old man. This time I noticed other things about him. His hair was neatly combed and he had placed his sandals neatly beside the bench. His bare feet were placed firmly on the cold grass, and his eyes were closed. I remembered someone telling me once, that the morning grass with the fresh dew was healing to walk on. It must be what he was doing, I told myself. As I continued walking I wondered if I should try it myself someday. “Naah I’m good!” I said aloud.

Change is uncomfortable, at first.

I did not see him for many days again as I went on my solitary walks. All I saw was the old bench and the glistening grass. One day I took this picture because the grass looked so pretty in the morning light. I did not take off my shoes. Maybe I was afraid to find out what the old man and the grass shared. A month went by, and I began to miss the old man on the bench. The empty bench each day to me looked as if it missed him too. I told myself, that the writer’s imagination in me was in hyper mode. How could a bench miss anyone? The only one missing him was me. It was the strangest thing for me to believe. He meant nothing to me. Maybe the sinister winter temperature had caught up with him. I was almost tempted to ask the guard about the old man once.

Change never comes announced, it will creep up on you like a friendly breeze.

For the next few months, I changed my route. I even stopped to stare at the grass. Who wants to acknowledge a nagging feeling? You tell yourself that if you change your focus then maybe that feeling that is bugging you will go away. It did, for a long time. After a year, I had finally forgotten the old man on the bench. He was insignificant after all. The grass his feet had touched was long dead. The bench, could not possibly have any memory of him at all. I was still focused on what did not matter that I had forgotten that I may have gained something if I had actually taken the time to take off my shoes and feel it all for myself. I am a heavy soul, with a happy face. It is my nature. But it is not completely who I am. To pretend that your belief about yesterday still holds true for today is possibly the biggest sin of all. It cannot possibly be, because everything is constantly changing. Look at the skies, it’s never the same color every day. Listen to your heart. It wants something new, every day.

I was still resisting change.

A few days ago, I took the same old route past the bench under the acacia tree. My memory was faint, but it came to life in seconds. The conditions of the moment were perfect for it. The only difference was that there was a warm breeze this morning despite it being early January. As if the universe was giving me a second chance. I knew it was time to face my fear, I know it because I got that familiar feeling the world calls déjà vu. So I walked towards the bench. My heart was racing as I took off my sneakers. I looked left and right, then around. There was nobody to witness my stupidity. Except for the trees and the grass and the birds. I put my bare feet on the soft grass. It felt ordinary. I had done it countless times especially as a child. Then I stood up and began to walk around. I even did a quick pirouette with my hands up in the air. The moment demanded it! Before I knew it, I was caught up in a whirlpool of nostalgia. I could see myself running as a child at the top field at my school in the hills. I could smell mums’ Pond’s shampoo as she threw me up in the sky, our giggles filling the world with happiness. I saw my son’s face as it came screaming into the world. Red and angry, but filling me with so much joy. I opened my eyes from the reverie and sat down on the iron bench. I had experienced something so valuable in the most ordinary way possible. I felt silly that I had been afraid of nothing. The old man was just an instrument of nature to help me access what I needed. A sort of compass to help point me in the direction I needed to explore. There was nothing to fear at all. Something good for you will never feel wrong, no matter how wrong it looks. Let nature guide you, it has the memory of a billion years in its roots to remind you of what you may have forgotten. Sometimes we all need a little reboot.

I put on my shoes, and as I got up I looked straight ahead. A middle-aged man was passing by. He was pretending not to look, but he had noticed me alright. I turned away, uncaring about what he or anyone else would think of me. It did not matter anymore.

Change is inevitable.